Red Snow
by kb5000
Summary: What were President Snow's thoughts those last few days spent in his rose garden? Was his demise his plan all along? This is my take on what happens.I don't own the Hunger Games, or else certain people would have lived. Read and Review!


**AN: Hi Guys! So, I've posted this story before, but I made a few revisions too it, and I believe it's better now so here it is... AGAIN! I hope you enjoy, and review!**

Roses. They're all I see. They're all I smell. They surround me, their thorns digging into my sides. What used to be my favorite place has become my undoing.

But they're not all I feel. I feel pain, worse than ever before. I feel regret, for my mistakes have landed me where I never wanted to arrive. I'll _never_ feel guilt however, because I've done nothing wrong. At least, not recently.

They think I sent out those bombs. As if I'm that stupid,If I had any operating hovercrafts at my disposal, I would have never used it for purposes as _useless_ as that. Its clear Coin did that to frame me, to make me seem heartless. She's more cunning than I thought.

Little do people know, I have a family. I made my daughter take on my wife's maiden name so she would not be in the public eye. Then she and my wife moved into a new house, where I visited them daily. My daughter grew up, and now I'm blessed with a lovely grandaughter, who I visit once a week.

That is, until I was locked in my rose garden. Truth be told, the rose is a vile flower to me. It's the only flower that would cover up the smell of blood, and even then it's still noticeable. I use the flower because I'm poisoned. My father (May the devil burn where he belongs) was a vile man who wanted power and greatness, nothing more. When he didn't achieve his greatest need, he turned to me. Forced me to poison people, including myself. Giving me the wrong medicine, this would never let my "condition" fully heal. Turning me into the monster I am today. I pray that he was worse than I, but I fear the worst.

Though I don't regret my choices. My true mistake was kidnapping the boy. She never realized he was important untill he was gone. If I had taken someone else, maybe I would have been successful. Maybe if I had taken her sister. No, she would eventually come back with more fuel than ever, wanting to avenge her precious Primrose.

Maybe if I took her partner. Her best friend. She would feel nothing but pain. She loved him, but didn't even know. That's where my mistake lies. I should have made Thread hang him for treason.

Or maybe my mistake is the changing of the Quarter Quell. I needed to get rid of the "Star-Crossed Lovers" without their blood on my hands, and I couldn't see any other possibilities. The original Quarter Quell only sent _loved ones_ of the Victors into the Quell, not the Victors themselves like I needed. I also suspected certain Victors assisting the rebellion and I wanted them out of the way as well.

But I couldn't live in the past. Not if I wanted to live past tomorrow. My mind races as my wrists twist in my shackles. And the Hunger Games are inhumane.

Just as my brain begins to fail me, the "Girl on Fire" enters the room, somewhat cautiously. She looks around, and spots a rose she likes. As if she could like the flower I've tortured her with. In her current state, She looks like the petal of the very flower she holds. Soft and delicate.

As she begins to slice it off it's roots, I speak up. I see her tense up as the simple, white rose breaks off its stem. I explain to the fragile Mockingjay that I didn't kill her sweet, innocent sister. How Coin deceived us both.

After my spiel, she gets a word in. "I don't believe you." Her voice is so dense, so hoarse. I tell her I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other. She runs out of the room, at a loss for words.

I smirk, thinking I just sent Panem into a downhill spiral. I've had my small victory. The next day, a lovely two-faced Coin decides to visit me in my prison.

"Welcome to my humble abode Alma. May I offer you a drink?" I say, a large amount of sarcasm dripping in my voice.

"No thank you Cornelius. I just came to inform you on some important news." Her tone seems completely devoid of emotion.

"Oh? And what is that?"

"Well, first, your execution is today."

"How fabulous is that? I get to die today!" I pretend to sound cheery, just to piss her off.

" Second, the remaining Victors have decided that we will hold a final, symbolic Hunger Games, using Capitol children closest to those in power."

"And this affects me how?" I try not to let the fear that my grandaughter could be in this battle show on my face.

"Do you really think we don't know about your grandaughter? But don't worry, their odds will be," she smirks " _In_ _there_ _favor_."

I don't let this news show on my face. My granddaughter has just been condemmed. "What's the third matter?"

"You've been requested to wear this." She hands me a rose. The same rose our Mockingjay clipped just a few hours ago.

"Good day Cornelius." Coin walks across my garden and exits through the door.

I clench my teeth together and prevent myself from admitting defeat. I have better things to be doing. Like making it past today alive.

Only minutes later, I'm dragged out of my jail and brought outside to thousands of people watching me. Waiting to see me die in cold blood. I'm shackled to a post, then left to wait.

The rebel stands in her uniform, watching me like a hawk, bow in hand. I see it begin to rise. With one last hope, I glance into her eyes. I show amusement from our last conversation show. Finally, her acorn-sized brain clues in and she aims and shots her arrow into Coins heart, who falls from a balcony above.

I begin to laugh, the blood from my "condition" gurgling in my throat. I realized back in my jail cell if Ms. Everdeen did shoot Coin, I would only have a few more days until they re-scheduled my execution. I slide a pocket knife down from my sleeve. They didn't even check me for weapons. Idiots.

I open the knife and look up. My opponent is being dragged of stage, yelling for her partner. Ms. Everdeen has won, though I always have the last laugh. I close my eyes, and slit my own throat.

Looks like I'll be joining my father after all.


End file.
